Bedtime Tales For Scared Little Children
by Penonymous
Summary: We all know that Johnny tells Squee bedtime stories. Have you ever been curious as to what they were like, or what they were about? Well, listen in yourself, and watch how much Johnny blurs the line between harmless storytelling and reality while an innocent child listens.
1. The Cursed Peasant

"So, Squee," Johnny began, sitting cross-legged on the end of Squee's bed. "You ready for a bedtime story?"

This was their routine. Well, Johnny's, at least. Every night that Johnny was feeling calm, rational, and almost sane, he would use that opportunity to visit little Todd Casil next door. See, Johnny had to feel sane when visiting the scared little boy. He had too. At all other times, he was either slowly slicing a screaming victim up with a rusty blade because he was bored, smashing a cashier's head repeatedly into the countertop because he was enraged, driving needles as deeply as he could underneath a snippy woman's fingernails because was annoyed, or just giggling insanely and accomplishing many terrifying acts of torture at once because he is excited. There were times he made an exception by visiting Squee during one of his other moods just so the sight of the boy would calm him down, but these exceptions were rare. He learned long ago how much he scared the poor child during one of his other moods. Johnny felt guilty for it and resolved to only visit Squee when he was at least somewhat calm.

Todd Casil, on the other hand, could never predict when the Scary Neighbor Man would appear in his room. He was pretty sure that Johnny found every single way possible he could enter his room. Window, tunnels, popping out from under the bed, some weird kind of zipline that the maniac used only once, opening up a door to his ceiling from the attic he never knew he had, and so many more. It was all absolutely terrifying. Nobody, especially not a child prone to panic attacks, wants to know that a bloodied lunatic comes and goes from your house as he pleases without the child's parents giving a single fuck. He suspected his dad might even encourage it for reasons he still refuses to believe. Johnny played along when the father was around, of course. Acted like he meant to scar Squee for life, but then shot a deathly glare after the man as soon as the father's back was turned. Johnny resolved to at least not kill Todd's father. It might be a personal thing that even Johnny barely understood. Squee didn't know. All he knew was that a knife-wielding homicidal maniac that has killed and continues to kill thousands of people right next door seemed to take a liking to talking to him. Especially late at night. Especially by telling bedtime stories. Squee also long ago timidly requested there to be no swearing in the stories. Johnny, surprisingly, readily agreed with this and even commended Todd for that suggestion. Johnny liked the idea of falling out of the habit of swearing so often. Swearing was a crutch and was usually a sign of lesser intelligence. Better to get rid of it straight away.

The stories were a lot of the time scary, sometimes insightful, and other times just plain silly and nonsensical. Johnny never planned his stories out ahead of time. Every bit of it was improvisation. Sometimes they weren't so much stories as much as a very, very, very mild and calm rant from Johnny about issues in society. Really. He would be screaming those things at any other time, but instead, in front of Squee, he spoke them as if they were more of an observation that mildly interested and annoyed him rather than something that clawed at him from the inside out. Just like politics for the average person.

Squee wondered what kind of story he would hear tonight. Or whether it would be a story at all.

"Y-yeah, I guess so, Scary Neighbor Man," Todd responded quietly. Johnny smiled and patted little Squee's head awkwardly, then tried to discreetly rub his hand off on the covers. Not out of germs. Johnny knew that Todd wasn't particularly dirty. He just wasn't used to physical contact with another human being, not yet. He was slowly getting better with that, too.

"Well, good! How about…a story that takes place in the middle ages?" Johnny asked.

"With scary dragons and knights?"

"Oh, no, not at all! Stories shouldn't only be about heroes and knights in shining armor, after all! That's not how the world works, so why should stories work that way?" Nny put a hand to his chin in thought. "How about…a story about a lonely peasant?"

Squee smiled and nodded. That story sounded safe. A bit sad, but relatively safe. After all, how much trouble could an everyday peasant get into? Johnny grinned back, cracked his knuckles, and began his story.

_"Once upon a time, there was a disturbed peasant._

_This peasant, you see, had a strange idea as to how the world actually works, and felt that any other theories were fanciful illusions. He felt he was the only one who saw society for what it was, uncovering all of its dark secrets. His deeds did not go unpunished. The local Orange Wizard saw how mindlessly and joyfully violent the peasant was in his youth, and hated it. Despised it. According to him, no one who killed so mindlessly and still understood the harsh world should be so happy with what he does. It wasn't right. And, in the Orange Wizard's opinion, if there was going to be a killer in that world, he might as well stand out as different from all of the others. So he cast a slow-working curse upon the child. It would manifest over time, slowly influencing his thoughts. At first, the peasant simply believed he was growing more intelligent. He embraced what he believed to be a gift and felt that, for this, he was above all of the others. He felt superior. It wasn't until the curse was fully in effect did he realize what was happening to him. The peasant still killed without pause, but this time, he started to feel guilt. Remorse. There was more than a touch of angst scraping away at his thoughts, which were littered with the self-aware inner voices that sounded so much like his own."_

Johnny paused at this point and glanced nervously over at Squee. There was obviously something tugging at Nny's thoughts, but the child was too scared of the unexpectedly savage villager and the diabolical Orange Wizard to question it. So, the maniac took a deep breath and hesitantly continued.

_"The peasant tried to cope by buying a cottage, listening to the latest classical music whenever he could, and starting an art career. It had worked at first, and the peasant entertained the idea of freedom. What he didn't know was that the curse still bore a heavy influence on all of his decisions. It needed him to get a new cottage so it could find a place to physically manifest. It needed him to start an art career so he could have some sort of cash inflow to care for himself just enough so he might live long enough to bring the curse to life. His treasured music became triggers for homicidal rampages, contributing to the curse's power. All in all, his life became a living Hell, and the evil Orange Wizard was happy._

_After a few years of torturous slavery, the peasant by chance found favor with a beautiful peasant girl who sold scrolls for a living. The girl was more intelligent than the words bound on the dry parchment she sold, and yet she remained humble. She looked into the peasant's troubled eyes and discovered a quality of him that she liked, one that even the peasant knew nothing about. She created no triggers of murdering sprees for him, and even prevented ordinary annoyances from bothering him when she was around. His life was by no means magically transformed into bliss or any sense of normalcy, but he could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel of tragedy. It made him…hopeful. With tense muscles and a scattered mind, he requested the company of the peasant girl to the local theatre. She smiled and did a remarkable thing; she said yes. The peasant was ecstatic, and could hardly wait for nightfall._

_The peasant picked her up in a run down horse and carriage, and the gods seemed to smile favorably upon him, for the curse had given him nary a symptom throughout the day. He took this to be a good sign and genuinely looked forward to sitting next to this peasant girl in a dank, dirty theatre to watch a play all the other richer civilians have seen many a time before. It was not the play that mattered, though the play was well done and had an intriguing storyline, but it was the fact that the curse was so weak as to allow another living human, a female no less, set her eyes upon him and to find him in her favor._

_He and she had a long discussion after the play about the village and the villagers within. He found to both his suspicion and delight that she agreed with many of his points, especially the fact that the villagers were blinded by their lack of insight to the common tragedies and disgusting habits lurking around them. He accidentally let slip a few references to the curse he was under, but she only interpreted it as more idle conversation. For that, he was glad. So it was no surprise that when she asked if he wanted to escort her to his own cottage, he accepted._

_They arrived with little fanfare, and when he allowed her into his home first, the gesture was born more from innate politeness than of any romantic gesture. He didn't believe in immediate romance, and neither did she, so there were no misunderstandings. They sat upon a bench within and talked a bit more personally of various topics. She implied that she would like another date to be made as the one they had just had, and he inquired as to why she wished to repeat the experience with him out of all the other villagers. He asked to satiate his curiosity, and not to stoke any ego he may or may not possess. The female peasant smiled and told him that she liked him for obvious reasons, and that if he felt otherwise about her, she may just send him to the River Stix to meet Hades in person. They both laughed at the jest. The peasant openly rejoiced due to his rare moment of happiness, and to his surprise, the girl leaned closer to him and attempted to kiss him. He was about to return the favor when something…unimaginably terrible happened."_

Johnny paused again, looking even more deeply troubled. He really wanted to stop the story now and start over with different characters, a different setting, and a far different ending. But that's not how life works, and his stories are meant to reflect life itself. He had to continue. He had to. Johnny took a deep, shuddering breath, and avoided eye contact with Squee. The child couldn't see the truth in his eyes. Squee had to still think this was just a bedtime story, and nothing more.

_"You see, even all of this was a plan of the curse and the Orange Wizard. Right as he was to return the kiss, the previously quiet voices of the curse screamed at him to stop, to cut, to tear, to murder this innocent girl before him. He fled the room, leaving her behind, confused and fearful, but safe for now. He found a place to talk openly to the voices and argued with them, knowing that this wasn't right, and that he had been so close to happiness only to have it torn away from him. At the urging of the voices, he finally did attempt to kill the girl. He was under the impression that it was his own choice, but of course, it was a lie. He reasoned this was a way for the happiness to last, that if she were to descend to the underworld, the essence of her memories and his happiness would remain back with him on Earth. Flawed logic at best._

_Lucky for the girl, his attempts at her life were frantic and poorly planned. She was able to fight back. She was able to not only defend herself, but seriously maim him in a full on skirmish. The girl fled the cottage, and for this, the seriously injured villager was glad. He thought she was free from him, from the curse, from anything that could wrong her. He felt a twinge of guilt, of course, for attempting to end events the way he did. He was also incredibly sad that this one chance at freedom was swiftly taken from him without a moment's notice. He attempted to get back in touch with her months later, hoping to explain the circumstances and at least cause her to not despise his very existence, but he was far too cowardly to approach her in person. He sent a rambling message instead. He allowed himself a bit of hope that, maybe, it would make things better. He WAS technically defying the very essence of what the curse was, after all. It did not go well. Not at all. She appeared to hate him even more so, though she also seemed able and willing to avoid him, which made him both happy and mournful for the same reasons that were explained earlier. He could only hope that the curse did not follow her as well."_

Johnny got up from the bed, still avoiding eye contact, and made his way toward the window. He had just opened it enough to slip through when a small voice spoke up from the bed.

"Mr. Scary Neighbor Man?" Squee asked in a trembling voice. "What…what happened to the lady? Is she okay? Did the big bad curse thingy follow her?"

The lonely peasant shut his eyes tightly against the sudden wave of sadness that attempted to overtake him, clinging to the window frame for support.

"I…I don't know, Squee. I just…I just don't know…"


	2. Bunny Tales

"Okay!" Johnny said, a wide smile on his face. He was sitting at the foot of the bed again, cross-legged as usual, but looking more excited than Todd was used too. Johnny was practically jumping up and down. It scared Todd a bit. "I've got a really good story tonight, Squee! I can just feel it! It's happy, too! At least, I think it is. Either that or I don't know the difference between happiness and feeling particularly sadistic!" Johnny gave a small cackle at this. "Ah, who knows! It doesn't really matter, at least not right now! I know I promised I'd be calm while visiting you, but this is an exception! You just HAVE to hear this story I have in my head right now! It's hilarious!"

"Uh…Mr. Scary Neighbor Man? W-why are you so happy and bouncy?"

Johnny smiled widely. "That's just it! I don't even know why! I only had one slushie today, two pixie stix, and I also had a red bull or two for the first time ever and felt fine, so it's obviously nothing I ate or drank! I dunno! It's a mystery!"

Todd giggled. He couldn't help it. This full grown adult, who often suffered from wild bouts of depression and raged at the world on a daily basis, was acting at least half his age. No, wait, more like a third. Yeah, that was a closer estimate. Much closer. It both scared and amused little Todd Casil. The amusement side of him peaked even more when he saw Johnny get up (or more like spring) from the bed and start quickly pacing back and forth, still smiling.

_"Once upon a time, there was a bunny! A happy little bunny, just frolicking along with all his bunny friends! Why? Because frolicking is just SO much fun for bunnies! That's what bunnies do! They frolic! When it comes to frolicking, they're simply the best there is!"_ Johnny began, gesturing wildly while talking. Todd giggled again. Johnny laughed as well.

_"So, they're frolicking, right? Frolic, frolic, frolic! Then one of the bunnies, a blue one, decides to go for a swim! He just felt like it! So he jumped right into a deep river! His friends frolicked away from him, and Blue just kept hopping around underwater! But he wasn't frolicking anymore! Ah ha ha! No, no, see, he wasn't doing that at all! He was HOPPING! UNDERWATER! See what I did there? Hopping underwater is impossible! Bunnies can't do that! He was splashing so much, and he even cried out…in joy, of course! In joy! Always in joy! Then he stopped crying out, and that blue bunny hopped so high that he rocketed right up in the sky and never fell back down! He was gone! Poof! So there was only the green, the pink, and the yellow bunny left!"_

Todd's smile slipped. Where was this story going? What happened to the cute little blue bunny?

_"So, the yellow bunny, he's the cool one of the group, right? All mellow and wearing sunglasses and crap! All that stuff! I think he raps, too, but that doesn't matter right now! The point is, he's trying to act all cool when he falls flat on his face from tripping! He just tripped! And it wasn't on a twig or a rock or his own feet! Nope! It was on a…heh heh…it was on a BEAR TRAP! Don't look so scared, Squee! He didn't get hurt! No, he ducked just in time that he completely missed it! It made him look like Neo or something to his friends, though, so Pink and Green applauded him! They APPLAUDED the little motherfu…OH! Sorry! No swearing, I forgot! Eh heh heh! Whoops! Got a little excited there and I forgot! Where was I? Oh, yes, the applause! They were APPLAUDING the little mother HUGGER even though he didn't do sh…he didn't do CRAP to deserve any of it! But that's okay! Know why? KNOW WHY? When he was bowing like a stuck up pri…like a stuck up SLICK, he stepped on another one! Another one, right next to him! Just stepped right on it! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Isn't that just FANTASTIC? His friends didn't notice because by the time that happened, since they were busy with frolicking through the LAND of FRIENDSHIP and HIDDEN MEANINGS to notice the bloody, gory demise! So they were down to two! Pink and Green! The best of friends!_ Just like friends should be, eh Squee?" Johnny suddenly approached Squee with a smile that, to Squee, looked positively demented. "We're the best of friends, right? RIGHT?"

"Y-y-yes!" Todd managed to squeak out. But Johnny had already turned away, apparently never expecting an answer to his question in the first place. Or he was just wrapped up in the story again. Who could tell at this stage in Johnny's intense sugar rush? Todd briefly wondered if the maniac would crash before or after finishing the story. If it was before, the maniac would get angry at not remembering how the story ended when he woke up. If it was after, Nny would still be greatly annoyed at having slept at all, but would probably calm down quickly after seeing a frightened Todd Casil fearfully staring at him. Todd wanted neither the former nor the latter. If the crash were to happen, it had to happen after Johnny went home. Todd vowed to keep the story going at all costs, not making a single sound to distract the storyteller.

_"Green was the kind one, you know!"_ Johnny continued._ "He was always helping others out! Even if he were in a bad situation, he would spin it around and feel bad for the evil people! No one understood why! So on this day, a gray porcupine, feeling ticked off for whatever reason, decided to pump the cute green bunny full of needles! Oh, how the green bunny SCREAMED! Then he reverted back to his nature and started comforting the porcupine, even while he was dying! That good for nothing IDIOT! He had no sense of self-preservation at all! And he had terrible friends, too! Pink didn't even stick around to hear his kind friend's last words! NOPE! You know why, Squee? Because bunnies are STUPID, SELFISH, IRRITATING CREATURES WHENEVER THEY AREN'T A HEAD VOICE OR DEAD AND NAILED TO A WALL!"_ Johnny panted for breath after that shout, beginning to lose his energy spike as well as his good mood. But he had to finish the story! He had to! It was such a good one!

_"Then a crazy human runs in and captures Pink! He cackles madly, dragging the screaming pink bunny into a mad scientist's laboratory for EVIL tests! HORRIBLE, AWFUL tests! The worst you could imagine! They were meant to keep him alive forever, all so he could perform stunts to be put in a comic for brain stunted psychos! Oh, sure, he tried to escape! He tried to escape more often that anyone could possible imagine! But his keepers harshly punished him for every single act of rebellion! Pink performed for the audience constantly, even at the expense of grueling pain, and was called Happy Bunny even though he was far from it! He still performs to this day!_ In fact, that was another reason I came over, Squeegee! Aside from that awesome story, I got you a present!"

Johnny reached outside the window and pulled in what looked to be a small box wrapped in bloody newspaper. He practically shoved it into Squee's arms and stood back, tapping his foot impatiently while the small boy carefully unwrapped it. Todd opened the box, looked inside, and gasped. Inside sat a poorly stitched, hand-made, plush replica of an almost dismembered pink bunny. Literally, it was constructed purposefully so that limbs and such could be stretched out away from the body through the use of rubber bands, then snap back into place as soon as you let go. The fabric wasn't that soft, and he was very suspicious of what was used to stuff the product, but Todd was speechless with gratitude. Why? Because no one had ever given Todd a handmade gift like that. Not ever. Even Shmee, his beloved bear, had been a generic store-bought bear at one time. Johnny had actually gone to the trouble to get Shmee an incredibly unique gift by making it himself, and even providing a backstory for it. And for all of that, it was one of the best gifts he had ever received. Even if it was incredibly creepy looking.

"Thank…" Todd began, looking up from his gift. It was then that his eyes met the sight of a passed out Nny, laying in a surprisingly comfortable position sitting up with his head and shoulders resting against the side of the boy's bed. Johnny must have felt it coming, and instead of escaping to his home and skipping the gift for the next day, he sacrificed his own hatred for sleep just to give Squee a gift he had made himself. Todd was still terrified of how Nny would awaken, don't get him wrong. But right now, with the sound of the soft, gentle breathing of the only adult who cared for him, a brand new stuffed animal to hug tightly, and fortunate temporary memory loss of just how traumatizing the bunny story was, Todd was perfectly content. More than that, he was, for once, feeling safe and relaxed in his own home. It was no trouble, then, to drift off to sleep that night without a care in the world.


	3. There Is Only One

**Author's Note: I just want to make it clear that this story was inspired by a Creepypasta called 'The Egg' and is in no way affiliated with actual beliefs. Johnny is also a very cynical and sarcastic person, so any insults he throws around are from his thoughts, not mine. That is all.**

"See, this new theory I heard just…gets to me," the homicidal maniac told the young boy seated in the bed. "I heard bits and pieces from a person before I kill…uh, before they 'went away'. It gets to me, but I'm not sure if that's a positive thing or a negative thing. Not yet."

The smart little boy looked up. "Theory about what?"

"Just…" the scary neighbor man was at a loss for words. "About life, the universe, and our place in it. It was about what we originally came here for and precisely WHY each of us exists. It sent me into an existential crisis for a good half hour. That's rare nowadays." Johnny glanced down at the child. "Hey, you don't mind if I turn this into your bedtime story, right? It's the only thing on my mind, and I honestly don't think I could come up with anything else and make it remotely entertaining. Not that this will be entertaining. I just need to tell someone, and honestly, Squee, you listen a lot better than echoing head voices or a captive audience screaming for release that never finds them."

The boy nodded, but shivered in fear at the mention of Johnny's other options of an audience. "I don't mind. Just…please don't say spooky things, Mr. Scary Neighbor Man. Please?"

"Oh, no, don't worry. This story is completely void of monsters, murders, depression, or swearing. It's all philosophical, which can be a little freaky, but not 'spooky' per say. I'll also try to fill in the blanks that the victim either left out of his rants or was unable to add because of me. He was quite the storyteller himself before he met his demise. Is that all right, then? Having this theory as a replacement story?"

"Yeah."

Cue big smile from bloodied, scarred, deranged murderer. "Perfect! Okay, let's see…oh, right. Let's begin it this way. _There are billions of people on Planet Earth. All are wandering from place to place, some with a determined purpose, and others with confusion and discontent in their hearts. We all look different from one another. Even identical twins, over time, develop different facial expressions and choose different ways to carry themselves. Each of us exists, but why? Why were so many spirits wandering the Earth, and why were some lives cut so short while others are prolonged for an impressive lengths? And if each person has their own unique spirit, then where could they possibly all fit? Surely even limitless places such as Heaven and Hell would be either crowded or incredibly difficult to navigate around to find people to hang with for all eternity._

_Well, here's the trick: there is only one spirit. That's right, only one, and it exists in each of us simultaneously, giving the illusion of having copies of itself. No, this is not some all-powerful, all-knowing being. It is not God. It is not an angel. It is simply a human soul. THE human soul. The only one that humanity has to show for all of its efforts. How can there only be one soul, and yet it encompasses our entire species, which is known for its wild variation from person to person? Let me explain._

_At some point in time, I don't know when, and I don't know how, this spirit was created. It was fresh, new, inexperienced. A toddler compared to the entire universe. It saw our little blue planet, and through its own spiritual awakening, it could see the future that was before it. All that potential, all that life, it was sobering to witness. This spirit eagerly decided that it absolutely must be a part of it all. But how was one who worked outside of time's restrictions to participate in something that had begun and ended simultaneously in its eyes? How was it to experience what every individual thought, did, or chose, and mature as a spiritual being so it may become wiser? Simple. It gave the gift of life. True life. And with this new gift of life, it inhabited its very first human being. That would explain why that person was so enamored with all of our race in spite of our flaws and our ridicule. He still held within him that initial wonder with the human race, and refused to give up his positive perception of us. He also had a high regard for his own creator, whomever that may be. Maybe it is God. Who can say, at this point?_

_After the final death, the spirit wasn't finished. Oh, no. Definitely not. It continued to throw time completely out the window, and leaped from person to person, even becoming the very people that it was meant to abhor. You know, the liars, the murderers, those kinds of people. Bad people. But then, it is believed that in that spirit's personal timeline, it inhabits the worse people around the middle of its timeline, when it starts to become disillusioned with our fate. It becomes wise and thankful again near the end of its journey, or so I was told. Think about it. It was Hitler, and also all of the people he killed. It was Jesus, and all those who followed him. It was every prophet that ever existed, as well as every sinner. It argued with itself in every debate ever concocted, and loved itself in every relationship. It was the famous celebrity avoiding the tabloids as well as the drunk homeless man the celebrity passed by. All these people…they were all one being reacting to different upbringings and brain chemistries! It also fulfilled otherwise loose ends in this way. Those lives that were cut short, were meant to be, as terrible as that sounds. But it was necessary so the spirit could move on to its next person in its timely fashion._

_That means that I, as a human being, am more than just one person. I am billions upon billions of people throughout history. Think about it. Even by talking to you, I am talking to myself! I am the killer that is disgusted with the world, and the frightened child listening to the rants and raves of a maniacal mass murderer. The people killed? Me. The people I've grown close to? Also me. But, still, not really. I have a spirit, and yet it is fickle enough to have already moved on in its own time. Heaven and Hell? Just different sections of its thoughts and different points in time! Ghosts? Nothing more than thoughts and memories accidentally spoken aloud. We don't remember each life while we're in it, as our physical brains can only hold so much information. We remember between each life. We remember it all. But during it, we are a slate that is, generally, wiped clean. We don't know where we stand on the timeline, as we are only little blips compared to the grand scheme of things. Our purpose, therefore, is to simply understand. To comprehend the world and people around us, to be respectful to one another. Truly, we must treat others as we wish to be treated, because when we hurt others, we are quite literally only hurting ourselves. What's the point, then? What's the point of anything if it will only be remembered at the very end of all life as well as the short snapshots in-between? Does the spirit we possess have morals? Does it have any sustained beliefs from life to life? What determines who it chooses to be next?_

_I'm not saying that I believe in this. Any of this. In fact, upon first hearing it, I laughed at the very idea. I just think that if such a theory exists, and it's well-thought out…hey, it at least deserves the respect of a moment's appreciation. Just imagine it as holding some truth in some form. If we immediately dismissed it, imagine how dumb we would feel if it turned out to be true. If there really is a spirit, I don't want to be remembered as 'that guy' who heard the theory and turned up my nose at it. Just being one more childish memory to be shoved back into the mental attic, only to be brought out to review this source of embarrassment as a regretful lesson in stupidity. It doesn't matter if this is all just a madman's ravings and misplaced conclusions. We have to be more open-minded. Life is full of possibilities and theories. Why not one more?"_

Todd looked up with wide, frightened eyes. "Is…is that…true?"

The maniac looked serious for a moment, then cracked a sly grin. "Well, I dunno. I just thought it sounded really neat as a story! I only made up half of it, so I can't take full credit for this theory. It's a pity that I needed to "move" that guy from the machine he was strapped in because another person who was "visiting" needed to be put in it instead. I think he was just saying those things to confuse me! It worked for a little bit, regrettably. I actually delayed killing him for a day. But I still wish that he could have expanded more on it in the short time he was around. I'm pretty sure I got several facts completely wrong. And, since I may have died myself, those kinds of theories are fun to listen to and laugh at! I'm pretty sure Senor Diablo isn't a figment of someone's imagination, although God might have been, since he wasn't nearly as powerful as I was expecting. I also do NOT like the idea that those jerks I killed off for being moronic were actually me in a past or future life. I mean, really! In ANY life, I would NEVER act like or say the things they did! I would NEVER be so DISRESPECTFUL to everyone around me! Calling people names and making lude jokes are just...AAAGGGHHH!"

"B-but…" Todd squeaked out, interrupting Johnny's suddenly angry rant. Johnny froze and looked over at Squee.

"But…?" Nny prompted the frightened boy.

"But what if…what if you're just near the end of the timeline, and those meanies were just in the middle, and you just learned from them or something?"

Johnny's expression softened a bit. "Well…then I still have some wising up to do, don't I? I'm obviously still deranged, though I guess I have a deeper perspective than a lot of people." He sat down on the end of the bed and tentatively rested a hand on Squee's little shoulder. "And, hey, don't worry. If I'm near the end, that means you're near the beginning. Still so full of potential for a good life. If you were in the past and I'm near the future, then that's okay. That means I was you at some point." The maniac gave a small, completely sane smile. "Honestly, even being distantly related through spiritual shenanigans to such a good person as yourself…that would be absolutely fine with me. I couldn't ask for a better person to be related to. If you still have hope and can be a truly good person, even in this terrible world, then why can't I, right?"


End file.
